The Morph of Free Will
by Caladchbolg
Summary: Mark undergoes a growing awareness of the failures and successes of the human race.
1. Chapter 1

**Mark Begins**

By K.H.Y.

Long ago Nergal wondered; was he not the god of his Morphs? They were beings fashioned by his hand in the image of man. His caprice was their desire, and his will their fate. They were irrevocably chained to the one whom had summoned them into existence.

They had no free will - they did what they wanted but what they wanted was what Nergal willed.

Nergal began to wonder; would a Morph ever obey him of it's own free will? Was it even possible to imbue his creatures with that most vital element of sentient beings?  
Originally, Nergal scoffed at this idea. A human being's free will was one of their greatest flaws - a flaw he had overcome when he had elevated himself to the status of a god. Granting a Morph free will was, in his view, a defacement of an otherwise perfect creature.

_Why would a god desire his creatures to have any will other than his own?_ Nergal thought. _That was the great mistake the gods made when they fashioned Elibe. That was the first error from which all others have stemmed. _

The idea did not die, however. Despite his reluctance to admit it, Nergal still possesed many human characteristics. They were weak and would eventually have to be destroyed. Nergal knew this, but of all his remaining human traits, curiousity was the strongest. Nergal developed a great desire to see what would come of an experiment where a Morph was given the ability to decide for themselves whether it would obey their god or not.

Unable to suppress this compulsion, Nergal began to think, _What harm could come of it?_

It was in this way he planted the seeds of his own destruction, for this creature would be in many respects the architect of his death.

In his defense, Nergal took the greatest conceivable precautions against this. When he wrought the spell to fashion such a Morph, he crafted it so that the Morph would have two undesirable traits. It would be physically weak, sickly in fact, and magically sterile.

In exchange for these weaknesses, the creature would have free will.

Nergal made doubly sure to craft these three stipulations into the spell. He thought the loss of power a much worse fate than the loss of free will (in fact, he thought any being having a will beside his own was more of a burden than a gift) but the Maker reasoned that this would make him safe from his creation.

After the spell had been wrought, Nergal put into play. On the ground before Dragon's Gate, the Morph of Free Will came into being.

The process of becoming was an unpleasant beginning for this creature. First came magic. It came in the shape of a dark cloud. This clould convulsed into the shape of a man. The soul, such as it was, came screaming into existence. The cloud began to solidify. Following this event bones, tissue, organs, skin, and hair grew. This process was not quick. The growth, although described quickly here, took many weeks.

When the screams of fear and pain finally subsided, Nergal eagerly made his way up to the Gate. On the floor beneath it stood a young man - naked and afraid. Nergal exalted at the sight.

In appearance, the creature was not like his other Morphs. They had dark hair and amber eyes. This creature had silver hair and red eyes. The only physical similarity between this Morph and the others was that they were all unnaturally pale.

The Morph was very fair to look upon. This was, of course, true of all Nergal's creatures. Beauty was, in his view, an important part of perfection. Nergal felt especially attracted to this Morph. Unlike the others, he hadn't made it in the image of an archetype of what the most beautiful men and women of the world might look like. Instead, he had crafted it in _his_ image. While the Morph's hair and eye colors were different, the counterance of his face and structure of his body resembled Nergal when he was a young man.

Nergal felt somewhat whistful at the sight. He quickly dismissed this nostalgic emotion.

"Do you know who you are?" he asked coldly. The Morph stared at him blankly.

"I asked, do you know who you are?"

The Morph spoke in an inhuman tongue. It was the language of those spirits who had never set eyes upon the sun; those who had never been part of the world. How he or any other Morph was born with such knowledge remained a mystery, even to their god, but Nergal knew enough of the language to understand that the creature was telling him his name.

"In this language, that makes you Mark," Nergal said.

"Marrrk?" the creature slurred. He was drawn to the name. It sounded familar.

"Yes, Mark," Nergal said. He gave the creature a look that was almost affectionate. "And you are the Morph of Free Will!"

The creature gave him another blank stare. The Dark Necromancer saw that a demonstration was necessary.

Nergal concentrated all his will into a single command. "Kill yourself!"  
The Morph didn't move, except for a confused series of blinks.

It was then Nergal knew he had succeeded. While it was possible the Morph hadn't understood his words, that wasn't necessary. Nergal's will itself was what guided the nature of his other Morphs – it was a bond which went far beyond the restrictions of spoken language. The vocal command was just for "decoration" (in truth, although he didn't know and would never admit it, Nergal spoke his will aloud to feel more important).

"And now there is no difference between the gods and myself," Nergal said, mostly to himself. "We have both created a being who's heart works independently of our own."

The Morph of Free Will, Mark, cringed at the horrific sight of his creator's face as he uttered these words.

_Avi osi ne swaeno eki atto vasik katasi,_ Mark thought. In Elibean Common this amounted to:

_Life is no way to treat an innocent being._

* * *

**A/N:** I felt like writing a Fire Emblem fanfic. To be honest, I've all but withdrawn from the fanfic community. I've been writing stories with original characters for quite sometime now. It's been so long since I posted a fanfic I can't even remember my old account. That is why I am using my brother's. You can tell the difference between us because I use the initials K.H.Y.

I'm writing a short novel right now, so I'm not sure if I'll expand on this story or not (with all my tests, it doesn't leave me a lot of time). In either case, this chapter stands well enough on its own. It can be considered a story in its own right.

I'd like to say reviews will determine whether or not I continue this story, but they won't. I wrote the story mostly for myself, so I don't _much_ care if anyone reviews it or not (getting feedback is always nice though). If you do review, please tell me what is wrong before you tell me what is right. Fanfics wouldn't have much practical value if they weren't for improving one's skills at writing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Magic and Math**

Mark proved enigmatic. Nergal had a difficult time accepting this. Whenever he came to a conclusion about the nature of the Morph he had created, Mark would frustrate his conceptions by doing something that would contradict them.

A good example was the way Mark devoured books. The creature had an appetite for learning that would make even the most ardent human scholar feel like a dunce. During the first months of his existence, Nergal found Mark to be incredibly boorish. He had had no ambition other than to eat and sleep.

_Free will indeed,_ Nergal had thought contemptuously. He had been especially frustrated by the fact Mark didn't even _need_ to eat. He just liked to.

At a certain point, Nergal concluded that Mark could only be thought of in terms of the simplest beings - an animal. Nergal wrote Mark off and went back to more pressing matters. There were other experiments in need of implementation. Nergal couldn't afford to waste his valuable time on such a trivial thing.

That was when the philosophizing had begun. No incident could take place without Mark commenting on all the possible meanings of it. Considering he had never read any of the great works of the philosophers of Elibe, Nergal found his mastery of analysis and logic to be especially refined. Still, Nergal left Mark to his own devices.

_By itself, what good is philosophy?_ He thought.

Then something shocking occurred. It started when Nergal found himself facing a mathematical conundrum. Nergal was no expert on such matters. In spite of the many fields he had studied, the Dark Necromancer specialized in magic expressed by runes. The Ancients had devised this system for controlling magic and it had served the spellcasters of Elibe well for many centuries.

Even so, there was one civilization which turned out to be an exception to the rule. As old as the Ancients, a rival empire had refused to use the same system of magic as their enemies. Instead of rune languages and composition, they made use of mathematical formulas and terminology.

Nergal had always looked down upon numbers, so their use in magic remained a mystery to him. Very few Sages continued to study them, which made it difficult for his Morphs to find a comprehensive guide on the subject. The only one he knew of to possess such a guide was Athos.

Nergal grimaced at the thought of his one time friend turned enemy. Now was not the time to reveal himself. He couldn't put his plans into jeopardy for the sake of one experiment.

_Besides, there is a book out there which can help me decipher this spell. I just have to find it._

That was when Mark appeared. He was bored and wanted to have a conversation about the nature of boredom. Given that his fellow Morphs didn't seem to understand what boredom was, he decided his master would be the best outlet.

"Lemo hi habo nolome?" he asked Nergal. This amounted to 'can I speak to you master?'

"Go away," Nergal said, hunched over the equations he needed to solve to unlock the spell. He remembered Mark wouldn't be able to understand him. "Sato ji."  
Mark sighed, unhappy to be so low on Nergal's priority list. He glanced around at the many trappings of his master's compartment. It was much more comfortable looking than the habitation he had found for himself (an underground, basement-style ruin outside Dragon's Gate) but much less welcoming. Mark had gone to certain lengths to make sure his fellow Morphs knew it was fine to visit. None of them ever did.

Well, there was one, but it was a strange being. Mark felt sorry for the poor thing. It had a longing for their master the Morph of Free Will couldn't understand. How he knew this, Mark didn't know, but somehow he could tell. In any case, of all the Morphs, this creature was the only one beside himself which had a desire for company. It didn't have the freedom of will their master had granted him, but Mark discovered that Nergal's willful ignorance of the creature allowed for a similar effect.

"Sato hati?" Mark asked, noticing the equation his master struggled over. This amounted to 'what is that?'

Nergal contemplated destroying the creature for its refusal to leave, but decided such an action would be childish. Nonetheless, he repeated his earlier command. "Sato ji."  
"Seto hati?"  
"Sato ji!"  
"Seto hati?"

"Sato ji!"

A furious staring match took place between Nergal and Mark. At least, Nergal was furious. Mark just thought it was all in good fun.

"Hi kee!" Mark said. This amounted to "I see!" The creature bent down, simutaneously seizing Nergal's pen from him. Before Nergal could strike Mark, he noticed something profound. The Morph was (correctly) solving the equation!  
_But how is that possible?_ Nergal wondered. Little did he know, math was a universal language, and the substance of Mark's soul had come from a corner of existence where such knowledge was latent.

From there on out, Nergal resolved to invest much more effort into Mark's development as a being.

* * *

A/N: I wish I was good at math. Anyway, thanks for the review Nightmare. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Why?**

"Hello, Ephidel," Mark said. It was a friendly enough greeting, but Mark's contemporary looked at him as if he had said something foul.

"If it isn't the cripple," Ephidel said lightly.

Mark smiled. Ephidel was commenting on his illnesses, but Mark wasn't bothered by them anymore. He had gotten used to them.

"Our master told me to tell you to go to Etruria."  
"Oh, did he?" Ephidel asked.

"Yes."  
"I suppose Lord Nergal must feel sorry for you then. Even a cripple needs a purpose, I guess."  
Now Ephidel was commenting on Mark's inability to perform any one of the many duties Nergal assigned to his other Morphs. They all required great strength of arms or magic. Mark lacked both.

In spite of the coarse treatment he was receiving, Mark refused to submit to anger.

_If he insults me that makes him bad, if I get angry about it that makes me normal, but if I transcend it then I am excellent._

Mark had espoused this sort of philosophy from one of many books he had read. The philosophers of Etruria were the most brilliant – but it was one of Ilia, Saedel, who had developed this sentiment.

Mark shrugged. "I suppose so."  
Ephidel sighed. "As long as you're here, what exactly does Lord Nergal require of me?"  
"He wants you to find a book."  
"What book?" Ephidel asked. His voice was strained, probably from annoyance.

"The Hidden Will," Mark said. Ephidel glowered at him.

"If that is an attempt at jest, then you haven't amused me."  
"Huh?" Mark was taken aback. The look on his face said as much, and Ephidel couldn't sustain his suspicion.

"Never mind," Ephidel said. He teleported.

"What was that about?" Mark thought aloud. His mind yielded no answer.

Awhile later, Mark and Nergal were huddled over their respective books. Nergal was studying a black tome. Mark was reading about military tactics, strategy, and his personal favorite; logistics.

A tactic was a single strike, like moving a piece in chess to attack or defend against one's rival. Sending a lance wielding knight against a sword wielding mercenary was a good tactic because the lance wielder had a natural advantage. A tactic was something for gaining a short term victory in a battle full of smaller conflicts.

Strategy required use of tactics, but not vice versa. A strategy was an overall plan for winning a battle or campaign. Generals usually had to adapt their strategies in response to their opponet's strategies. A strategy was a plan tactics adhered to in order to achieve victory. Defeating individual units of the enemy's army required tactics, but defeating the whole army and capturing their fortress required a strategy.

Military logistics was systematic analysis all of the assets of a whole army – how to consider every factor when crafting a strategy for winning a battle or employing tactics during that battle in order to achieve victory. A true military thinker must consider all factors before crafting their plans – which soldiers had the best weapons and the best training, how to spend money, how to move the army's equipment from one place to another, how to set up camp, how to let your army rest and still be ready for battle at any given instant – it was such a invigorating process.

Mark loved military studies. Perhaps because he was so weak, the strength of those who fought in wars impressed him.

Mark couldn't enjoy his reading now, however. Something about his exchange with Ephidel bothered him. Actually, something about his life in general bothered him.

"Master, why am I so hated?"  
"They are jealous of you," Nergal said. There was no need for the master to ask his creation what he meant. Mark rarely spoke of it, but Nergal knew his fellow Morphs treated him with disdain. That actually wasn't especially unusual. They all treated each other like that. Each one of them thought themselves their master's favorite. The others were just obstacles to that.

"Why? I have nothing none of them have. They all have much more than me."  
"Wrong. You have free will."  
"Ephidel seems free enough – or do you will him to dislike me?"

Nergal cackled. His face became serious after he'd had a good laugh. "When I don't will them to do anything in particular, they form their own desires – just like any other being."  
Mark already knew that. On the tip of his tongue rested a request he feared to give voice to.

Nergal knew what he wanted to say. "You can't hide anything from me. You want to ask me to will them not to hate you."

"Yes."

"I will not do that," Nergal said. "It would encourage weakness from you. You don't need anymore of that."  
"For what reason do I exist?" Mark asked suddenly, thinking of what Ephidel had said when he said 'even cripples need a purpose'.

Nergal smiled. "I'm sure fate will reveal in what way you are best suited to serve me in it's own time."  
Mark went back to reading his book.

_May fate hurry then. _

* * *

A/N: Writing in short bursts makes it hard to elaborate on anything but neh. It seems like I have only one fan. Oh well. So does Kilgore Trout, and that Rosewater guy is borderline nuts. 

Well Nightmare, remember I'm _spontaneously_ writing this. It isn't like this is a bread winner story or anything. If I get sick of talking about Mark's life on Valor, maybe I'll flip to the campaign in Fire Emblem. Or maybe I'll stop writing this because "I don't have enough time". Heh heh heh ... not enough time. Yeah right. Nobody buys it whenever someone says that. Why don't they just be honest and say "I don't feel like writing this anymore. Too bad for you. Good bye."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Law of Uncertainty**

Mark had come a long way from the dumb beast he had been. He was weaker than the average human, but nature seemed to have balanced out this injustice by granting him abnormally high intelligence. Nergal was surprised. That hadn't been part of the spell.

_Magic works so, _he thought. _New and ancient spells yield unpredictable side effects. _

Nergal was especially pleased by the fact Mark was an excellent advisor and assistant in any project which necessitated the use of ancient or developed magic, be it by rune or mathematical language. Mark couldn't use the spells himself, but his understanding of the laws and theories of magic ran broad and deep. Six years after Mark's conception and birth, Nergal found himself spending more time with the Morph of Free Will than any of his other creations.

This was not lost upon Ephidel and Limstella, his chief lieutenants. "Why do you favor him more than us?" Ephidel asked.

Limstella looked serenely on as her contemporary beseeched their master to answer his question. Her posture bespoke of one who didn't care either way, but Nergal knew she was hanging on to every word.

Nergal snorted. "Because he is less expendable. I could create great Sages too take both your places in an instant. All I would need to do is snap my fingers." This was a great exaggeration. Nergal had been forced to put a great deal of effort into Ephidel and Limstella's creation, and would probably need to do so again if either one of them perished.

_Even so, Mark ... I shall never make his like again, if only because I fear too... I may not even be able too. The magic which I used was too complex ... too ... uncertain. _

Magic wasn't always like a science. The same actions didn't always bring about the same reactions. Magic evolved. True, a spell caster could count on most of their spells working out in a predictable way, but when magic became older, or truly advanced ... that was when things became chaotic. That was when the Laws of Magic (with the exception of one) broke down and ceased to have any meaning.  
Nergal mused over the law which caused this effect. _The Law of Uncertainty_. No matter how often a spell brought about the same effect, the truth was that the evolving nature of magic made all spells fundamentally uncertain. That was why it was best not to dabble with ancient magic. When a spell remained unused in a book for a thousand years, it didn't always remain what the accompanying instructions said it was. A spell designed to light an enemy on fire might turn on its user.

Thankfully, with Mark's help, Nergal had been able to develop counter measures against this sort of thing. Mark had become, among other things, a master of runes and numbers. No spell was beyond his ability to entrap or discern. No evolved spell couldn't, when master and creation set their minds to it, be reverted back to its original state.

To return to the present matter – Ephidel was taken aback by his master's forthrightness. He was also angered by Nergal's sentiment. The Dark Necromancer, his mind connected to his creation's, caught a glimpse of what Ephidel would like to do to Mark.

Nergal refused to will away Ephidel's aggression, but he warned, "Harm him in anyway, or drag him into your politics, and I shall see to it that you beg for the Abyss ere death takes you."  
Ephidel swallowed. "As you wish, master."  
Limstella chuckled. It was the first time she had given any sign that she was paying attention to the discussion at hand.

Nergal knew he needn't worry about Limstella harming Mark. She craved her master's affection as much as any other Morph (he had designed them that way), but she was smart enough to know jeopardizing her master's current favorite would actually lower he chances to gain that position for herself. Limstella tried to keep herself distant from the politics of her fellow Morphs.

At least, she did _most_ of the time. But even the grandest of queens couldn't resist consorting with her ladies in waiting every once in awhile.

Mark once remarked to Nergal that things at Dragon's Gate would be much more efficient if Nergal would will his Morphs to stop disagreeing with one another. Nergal laughed and said, "Keeping up the effort would prove tiresome, not to mention distracting from my experiments. Besides, there is an old saying, and I see you are reading books of a military nature, so you should appreciate this – the best way for a general to keep himself in power is to keep his lieutenants in competition with one another. That way, they will be less concerned with taking their master's throne."  
Mark was skeptical. "If any of them rebelled against you, you could just will their disobediance away."  
Nergal became surprisingly aloof and whimsical when he heard this. Feeling distant from Mark, he said, "The gods could have done that to the devils at the Beginning, but instead they sent them to Hell."

Nergal smiled as his mind came back to earth. "Besides, I like watching them scheme. It's more interesting that way."

Mark sighed. Inefficiency troubled him.

* * *

A/N: Like most writers, I like sounding professional and competent. So I'm going to treat you to a lecture.

The story has almost no plot. That isn't because I'm not aware of it, but rather because I'm too busy developing the characters. Mark betraying Nergal (not a spoiler – you all know it is coming) would have very little _literary_ value if he wasn't close and important to him. Since I can't win you over with _shock_ value, I must resort to _literay_ value. When things get into pace (assuming I don't get bored with the story) I'll work more on the plot.

I'm doing my best to work within the framework set by the video games, and I think I'm remaing mostly true to it. In the game, it seemed like the Morphs were always at each other's throats. This interests me, and I really want to carry it into my fiction.

I hope you get the fact that the Law of Uncertainty stipulates _only_ old spells written in books and highly advanced magic are subject. For example, if Erk uses his "hot off the presses" Fire Tome, then it will more or less universally inflict fire damage on the enemy cast (or miss, or have no damage effect because magic resistance is too high – you know how it is). Mark's talent comes from his ability to carve runes (or numbers) which 'soak up' magic. Mark himself cannot gather the magic into himself, but his hand guided by his mind can craw the runes which can (this is a very difficult and precise art – it took Mark three years to be competent and five to be a master).

I might start answering reviews personally in my A/N, as some writers do – but not this time. Anyway, there isn't much to respond to. My three reviewers are just phrasing in different ways that they like my story and want me to continue with it. All I can say to that is 'thanks' and 'we'll see'. Thought provoking responses require thought provoking comments or questions.

Anyway, my advice to any fellow aspiring writer is:

Write what you know. Mark Twain said this. There is no shame in reflecting your thoughts, feelings, and best of all, your experiences in what you write. Some might say that is the point of writing – even fiction, and even pulp stuff like fantasy.


	5. Chapter 5

**A History Lesson**

Mark's favorite book (actually a manuscript without a binding) was the _The Best_ _Way of War_. It is over a hundred pieces of parchment long, and so cannot be copied here. What follows, however, is the key message. It is how the author of this text (unknown – he or she left no signature) summarizes their work:

_The ideal goal of any general is to not fight. It is to win. Even if your goal is genocide, the systematic eradication of armies, the people they protect, and their shared culture, fighting them is not the best way to do this. Defeating them is. Hound. Harass. Ambush. Duck and weave. Hit and Run. Remind your enemies that anyone who bears arms against, wishes ill to, and seeks to kill you is just a corpse who doesn't know they are dead. Kill them when they eat, kill them when they sleep, kill them when they make love to their spouses, and kill them when they stoop to relieve their bowels. Poison their food, hold their children hostage, and disrupt their lives in everyway imaginable. Follow your treaties only when it is to your convenience. This is the best way to fight a war. _

It was after reading this book Mark resolved that, if he ever commanded an army, he would never commit it to a pitched battle. Such fighting was an easy way to lose one's assets. Weapons and medical supplies would be expended far too quickly. _Better yet,_ Mark thought, _avoidance of a pitched battle would make it easier to preserve one's soldiers lives. _

Mark's resolve to never commit himself to a pitched battle was further reinforced by this following excerpt and the history that accompanied it.

_... the barbarian armies of Caledonia fight with such a strange ferocity! May this letter never find its way into the hands of his Majesty, but I do not believe Etruria can triumph. Wherever I marched my troops, they dropped from trees, cliffs, and when these were no where to be found any other high landmark they could find. There are few open fields in this accursed country, but even when we fought on them, they dressed in strange clothes – cammoflague, we would call it – which allowed them to blend seamlessly with the grass around them. They refuse to fight and march in single file. They refuse to refrain from warfare during winter. Strangely, I think the raids they conduct into our caravans and supply camps have inflicted more casualties than the actual battles. Hunger is a terrible foe during war – especially when it is winter. _

Mark shook his head despairingly as he read this letter. It was part of a story he knew quite well.

Etruria was a land renowned for piety. Their devotion to the teachings of Saint Elimine. Naturally, certain elements of the Church felt as though they had an obligation to reinforce this idea abroad; through military force if need be. To that end, a radical faction of the high ranking clergy politically outmanuevered their peace loving leader, Pope Utilim. When so out done, the Pope was forced to (reluctantly) proclaim a crusade – a religious holy war – against the 'pagans' of Caledonia, Sacae, and Ilia.

By studying history, Mark learned that attacking Ilia for the purpose of conquering and controlling its institutions was the worst mistake a general could make. The government was simply too decentralized. In essence, Ilia was a military-centric republic. Farmers were respected, but knights held most of the influence due to their popularity. Denizens of one of Ilia's many territories would elect someone (almost always a knight, for they held the most respect and had the most knowledge of Elibe's affairs) to represent them at the capital, Edessa. These representatives in turn would choose one from among their own number to be the 'Winter General'.

The problem? The problem was that there was too little political power distrubted among too few territories. Essentially speaking, each Ilian territory was responsible for its self. The territories would often work together out of a sense of community, but in general each one grew its own food. Perhaps more importantly, each one produced its own knights.

If a general seized control of Edessa, it wouldn't be the same as seizing control of the capital of a different nation – the territories had great automony. They weren't a federation like Lycia. They were the opposite – a confederation.

In this case, Etruria thought by storming Edessa they would win control of the country. They were wrong. The Ilians lost their capital, but the Winter General conducted many (fruitful) raids and masterfully kept the northernmost territories free of Etrurian control in _every_ sense of the word. Eventually, the Etrurians were forced to leave simply because they couldn't garner enough economic or political influence. The Ilians then moved their government, weak but effective, into Edessa. The first crusade had failed in the north.

Mark speculated that the only country which would have even moderate success in taming Ilia would be Bern – and even then the country would have to expand its alright boistrous military. Moreover, even then it would be difficult and could cost no end of life or money.

_Bern would never be that foolish. There isn't anything of worth in Ilia anyway. _Mark corrected himself. _At least, nothing **they** know about. _Nergal had told Mark many tales about the treasures of the seemingly worthless country. Countless valuables of the Ancients lay buried in catacombs in the deep mines of snow covered mountains.

The first crusade did have one important effect. While Etruria failed to turn Ilia into a protectorate, interaction with priests traveling in the wake (or ranks) of Etruria's army eventually convinced most Ilians to convert to the Church of Elimine. The Etrurians had mixed feelings about that.

A year later, a new army was raised and it attacked Sacae. This one had much more military success – the Sacaens weren't as accustomed to hunting men as the Ilians. In time, however, the Saceans adjusted their horse-bow style to that task. After two years of bloody fighting, the Etrurians were forced back. The second crusade was also a failure. Etruria did, however, accomplish something which would later become important. During the war, they had established a provisional town at the heart of Sacae. This was Bulgar. Later, a small Sacean tribe moved into the town and became 'semi civilized' merchants. This tribe conducted trade and foreign diplomacy with the rest of Elibe for both its sake and that of all Sacean tribes. In doing so, they helped establish Sacae as its own country as opposed to a 'free for all' territory where 'barbarians' 'happened' to wander – a perception which, up until that time, most countries of Elibe had held.

A year later, the Etrurians declared a third crusade. This army was led not by "push overs", as the last two had been, but by the Mage General himself. Leonare de Falcose. The letter Mark was reading had been written by this man.

Leonare was a brilliant tactician in his own way but he had spent too many years fighting Bern's army. He thought in terms of aerial attacks with Wyvern knights and clashes with armored soldiers on open fields. "If it worked against the most militarized nation on the face of Elibe, then it will work against these barbarians." That summed up Leonore's attitude on the matter.

That was also why the Third Crusade was the greatest failure of all.

By this time, however, the Etrurians were fed up with failure. They wanted to win. Not to spread the faith – they just wanted revenge for their hurt pride. To this end, an obscure and out of the way noble rose to the task of reforming Etruria's strategy in Caledonia. This man was Harold the Cruel.

Leonare had been a man of many faults. There was no doubt about that. He never saw non-Eturians as equals, not even men from Lycia or Bern. Nonetheless, due to his steadfast belief in the rules of war, he never targeted women or children. He never caused villages discomfort, even if he knew they were sheltering or providing aid to his enemies.

Harold had no such inhibitions. In fact, his strategy caused him to be later known as the "father of total warfare". Harold didn't just wage war against a people's army. He fought against their warriors, their country, their people, and their way of life. He waged war _psychologically_ as well as physically.

The number of people who died in Caledonia during Harold's comission as Knight Commander was staggering – as was the amount of forests burned or cliffs demolished by magic. Geography revealed that Caledonian land still bore scars of the Etrurian conquest.

Mark shook his head in frustration. _Why would anyone do something like this? Who could end life so ... abi? So needlessly?  
_Nergal saw his Morph in distress. "What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Mark said. At that moment, neither one of them knew that a great obstacle had just been raised between servant and master.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was written (basically) to teach people about some of the history of my version of Elibe. I also tacked on a bit at the end where a small part of the stage for Mark's betrayal of Nergal is set.

ALSO - as a plot device that will later become imporant in the story:

Things may have changed, but I don't think everyone knows that Nergal is actually Nils and Ninian's father, and the husband of the ice dragon Nini. His wife was kidnapped during the Scouring. He sent his children to live at Dragon's Gate and told them to wait for him while he tried to rescue their mother. He also advised them to go through the Dragon's Gate if he didn't come back after a long time (because if that happened he reasoned he would most likely have to been slain by Nini's kidnappers). The attempt obviously ended in failure, and for some reason Nergal wasn't able to return. After waiting for a very long time, Nils and Ninian took their father's advice and set out through the Dragon's Gate. Later, due to the fact centuries had passed and he had become insane, Nergal could no longer recognize his children. Nils and Ninian didn't recognize their father for a similar reason - he just looked too old and crazy. Not only that, but their own memories had been affected by their long absence from Elibe. Yes, this is actually a part of the official game story. It is only revealed in information outside the game, however.

Hm ... maybe I'll respond to reviewers next time. Not many new ones right now anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**A World of Music**

Mark had become a master of runic and mathematical languages. After realizing this, Nergal put special emphasis on Mark's education in military warfare. He noticed the Morph had natural inclinations toward that subject, and the Dark Druid reasoned it might not be a bad idea to fan the flames of the fire.

_And then perhaps Mark will be of further use to me. _The Morph had already proven his value in the dozens of magic related experiments Nergal had undertaken since Mark had shown competence in runes and math.

Mark didn't just confine himself to military related studies though. The Morph developed acute interests in a number of different fields – specifically history, geography, literature, and science.

He also studied musical theory. This interest pricked Nergal's curiousity. He had himself been a patron of that art, long ago. He had once even attempted to write a book to convince the world that music and magic shared similar principles. He had been able to substantiate the idea, however, and the book was scrapped.

Nergal had long grown disinterested in music, but he was aware that his early obsession with it had played a motivational role in his pursuit of magic. It was one of many contributory causes which had turned Nergal in, as he saw it, the god he was today.

"Mark, you have studied a great deal about the lands and ways of the peoples of Elibe," Nergal said.

Mark admitted that was true.

"Do you ever feel any desire to see them for yourself? The lands and the peoples, I mean?" Nergal asked.

Mark frowned. He thought about it for a moment.

"I suppose I have," he said.

"Would you like to go now?"  
Mark was taken by surprise. He fumbled around for answer.  
"No," he said impulsively.

Nergal glared at him. "And why not?"  
"Because ... it doesn't feel safe," he said. "Nor is it logical. From my studies, I have inferred – no, read for myself – that Elibe is a cruel and dangerous place. If I died, then how could I continue being of service to you in your pursuit of magic?"

"Safety is no issue when you are with me, and you shall see how logical it is with respect to the way you serve me ... in due course."

Mark was reluctant, but he saw that his master intended this for him whether he wanted to or not.

"Very well," he said.

Nergal glanced at the book Mark had been reading prior to his arrival. _The Principles and Mechanics of Music_.  
"You have read much about music, but you have never heard a demonstration of it."  
Mark admitted that was true.

"Then that is what we shall do first."

An instant later, Nergal and Mark teleported to the Masilies Theater. It was the grandest of its kind in Etruria – most likely in all of Elibe.

Mark could not gather magic into himself for deployment, but magic cast against or on him affected him. His body was part of the universe, no matter the origins of the substance which had gone into forming it, and thus subject to magical forces. That is why Nergal's teleportation spell worked on the Morph.

Mark was dressed in fine blue robes. This surprised him. He hadn't been wearing them a moment before, back when he and Nergal had been on Valor.

More surprising – Nergal was dressed in fine red robes. Mark had seen a picture of their design in a modern history book. These were the casual clothes of middle class Etrurian nobles.

"We'll go in now," Nergal said. He had two tickets in his hand. Somewhere, in a distant part of the city, a lord and his mistress would be missing them.

Mark could only nod his assent.

The first thing which Mark was taken aback by was the number of people. The size of the building wasn't shocking – the chamber at Dragon's Gate was much, much larger. But Nergal never kept more than a two hundred Morphs at hand at any given time (Mark suspected he had more stationed on different parts of the world, however) – this room housed nearly a thousand people.

They weren't like Morphs in their emotions either. Mark was surprised by the countless expressions he saw – happiness, anger, sadness, and more. Each of these people had a life going on, and in their lives they experieced many things. They brought these experiences with them into the theater, and Mark could see this plastered on their faces as clearly as the sun was plastered to the sky. When he was with his fellows, the only expression Mark could see was, with the exception of the joy Morphs had when they spoke to Nergal, polite boredom.

Another notable feature, and one less pleasing to Mark, was the people's appearance. Many of the people had fine features, but having grown up in the company of the flawless perfection of Morphs, Mark saw these people as, and there was no other word for it, ugly. True, some were less ugly than others, but his enviroment had bred an aesthetically 'picky' Mark. Even the most beautiful, flawless though they seemed in their own eyes, seemed plain to the Morph of Free Will.

Nergal knew how his creation felt. "You find them unattractive, no?"

Mark tried to think of a nice way of saying it. "Some of them aren't that bad."  
Nergal laughed. "But they are like you."  
Mark frowned. He was proud of his looks. "I think myself finer than they."  
"I don't mean in look. You were made as an improved version of my image – there is nothing more flawless than that. But they have free will too."  
"I suppose so," Mark said, although he didn't think that brought him any closer to the ugly people. He had free will – but what was the point? Mark had never applied it. Nor did he have reason to. Who would wish to disobey a god? It made no sense.

Mark covered his ears. He had been trying to resist the compulsion, but he could not. The hum of the crowd was too loud. Having never heard such a thing in the deathly quiet halls of Dragon's Gate, Mark had trouble bearing it.

That was when the music started. A hush fell upon the crowd, and Mark reluctantly allowed his hands to fall from his ears at his master's urging. The first few notes took his breath away. Then the music truly took off, and Mark was swept off his feet.

It would be difficult to describe the music itself, but the effect of it can be shown – music is as music does.

The effect of the music on Mark was mental at first, but slowly a physical sensation began to spread through his body. It made him feel weak, almost helpess, and yet so strong and capable. If he tried to stand, Mark knew he would fall back into his chair. The music rendered him incapable of standing. It was a power which towered over him. And yet, the power's presence was not undesirable. Mark wasn't sure if he could say he enjoyed the experience (at least, not the first time), but he was certain he would choose to undergo it again if given the choice.

At the end of the first Ode, Mark's entire existence, body and soul, felt weary. But there were many Odes to go.

As they left the theater, Nergal saw his creation had a hard time walking. "Was that to your liking?"  
"I don't know, but it was fulfilling."  
Nergal smiled. "I thought as much."

* * *

A/N: I know what you're all thinking. You're thinking about Einstein's Theory of Relativity.

Galileo's version of relativity stated that objects move relative to other objects. There was no universal frame in which objects move. For example, a person reading a book in the car is with respect to the car seat _at rest_ but to a person watching the god move they are in _motion_. Objects can only move relative to other objects – for example, the person in the car is at rest relative to the _seat_ but relative to the person watching the car is moving at a rate of 55 miles per hour. Any they are both moving _hundreds of miles_ per hour with respect to the earth hurtling through space as the universe expands, even though they themselves are at rest.

Einstein's theory of relativity offers mathematical relationships to prove that is true, but it also stipulates that the speed of light is the same relative to all objects. Thus while one object may be in motion differently with respect to different objects, light moves the same with respect to any object. Or something like that. There is actually a lot more to it than that, but that's all I understand of the theory.

More importantly, the theory contributed to the rise of a school of thought known as 'Relativism'. _Relativism_ is the idea that everything, including values and morals, is in a constant state of flux. Thus there are no fixed states or absolutes – it is all just stuff in motion. Thus there is no fixed good and evil – only different people's perception of morality changing throughout time. This can be summed up in the philosophy of Protagoras: _Man is the measure. Things are as they seem to each individual. _This philosophy was one of the major justifications people used to explain their behavior during the 1920's – the era of jazz, wild dancing, women outside the home wearing short skirts, drugs, bootlegged alchohol, and ungodly amounts of sex with an ungodly numbers of people prior to marriage.

Plato disliked this idea. He believed there are universal absolutes of good and evil. From him stems the school of thought known as Moral Absolutism – the idea there is a fix and universal standard for what is good and evil.

A debate rages on to this day over which is true. Problem for Moral Absolutists is that they can't prove the ethical systems they propose as absolutes or universals are true. Moral Relativists have the advantage just because philosophy can't test theories.

Two major problems face Moral Absolutists: The Is-Ought Problem and the Regressive Argument.

The Is-Ought problem is hard to follow. Basically, people take things they know (or believe) are true and then try to use them to justify what _ought_ to be ethically true.

For example, since a laws of physics _is_ it _ought_ to guide human morality. Problem is, there is no proof that just because something _is_ means it _ought _to do anything. Another example: People say truth, happiness, and kindness are good. This is because they _are_. _Are _is a plural expression for_ is_. Because happiness is it ought to be considered a virtue, and virtue ought to be considered good because it is.

Problem is, you can't prove something _ought_ to be_ anything else_ just because it _is_ a _particular something_. The_ is_ is a fact (or belief), but the _ought_ is just a theory.

_The Regressive Argument_ is much simpler. It is basically somebody asking "Why?" Why?" and "Why?" whenever somebody proposes something is true. Eventually, due to human limitations, the person will be unable to answer the "Why?". Even if they could _intellectually_ answer every "Why", the person could just keep asking "Why?", making it impossible for there to ever be a satisfactory conclusion. It would be a _question-and-answer_ situation for all eternity.

**XfobiaX** – I heard read it in a fanfiction a long time ago and thought it was bull. Then I read it on Wikipedia. Granted, Wikipedia has many short comings as a source of information (as Steven Colbert joked – because the majority says something is true it is, no matter what the "specialists" or "professors" say) but the way in which it is said (logically and coherently) makes me believe it was true. Most stuff on wikipedia actually is true – it's just a lack of specialists can make it rather ambiguous or sketchy at some points (especially tough stuff, like Quantum Mechanics). I think the information came from some Japan-release only Fire Emblem book or guide.

**SandyCaeser** – Yes.

**Eclipsedragon** – Well, I'm glad you think it is deep, as 'philosophical' is one of the elements I strive hardest to include in my works.

**IVIaedhros** – I already know why (theoretically, if I get that far before stopping) Mark will betray Nergal. You are right in identifying Mark's reliance on logic as a means of justifying himself in any endeavor, but you missed another important part.

**WildfireDreams** – You're welcome, I guess.

The reason Mark doesn't think Nergal is ugly is because it never occurred to him to do so.


	7. Disclaimer

Sorry to disappoint. This isn't a new chapter. It is just the all important disclaimer I forgot to jot down.

I don't own Fire Emblem in this particular branch of the multiverse and even if every there is a reality for every possibility I bet I don't own it even then. Just kidding. If there is I might in a different part of the multiverse, but in this universe I don't own Fire Emblem. Nintendo does.

Professional Discliamer - I don't own Fire Emblem. Period.


	8. Chapter 7

**The First Engagement**

In the months following Mark's introduction to Etrurian music, Nergal took the Morph on many similar 'expeditions'. Mark enjoyed the travels very much, and over time he grew gradually less afraid of stepping foot off of Valor. In fact, sometimes he wished he could go on the journeys without his master. Nergal's presence was as restrictive as that of a stern parent. He constantly pointed out things in the places they visited that he wanted Mark to make note of. This 'tour' sort of ruined the magic of seeing and hearing great things for the first time.

Nergal also began introdicing Mark to humans. The Morph was stupified by the odd creatures once he saw them in action in some place other than a historical record or fiction.

"They are a strange people."  
"A weak people," Nergal said. He was disgusted by them. He was also disgusted by the fact he had once thought they could be a great species. "They are a race fashioned from mud and grime."

It didn't surprise Mark that Nergal spoke of humans as if he weren't one. In fact, Mark had never thought of Nergal in terms of humanity. He seemed so unlike the creatures he held in such contempt, so it never dawned on the Morph to do so.

In truth, and Nergal would have been pleased to hear this, Mark thought of the Dark Druid as if he were a god.

The thing which most troubled Mark about humans was their tendencies toward chaos. The Morph could tell that many tried to do otherwise, but ultimately their species was one which could never maintain true order or consistantly live up to the principles required of them. It went against their nature – they were very self orientated, narrow minded beings.

"What a flawed species the gods hath wrought," Mark said, quoting a line from one of his favorite poems. It was a tragedy in which the poet described the death of humanity by their own hands. The murder weapon? Apathy. The one whom had forged it? Ignorance.

"I can't imagine these people surviving long in this universe." Mark's words alluded to both how ancient the universe was and how recent an addition to it humanity was. Mark had studied many books – some of which had not been written by a people born on Elibe – and he knew the human species had just recently been born.  
"No," Nergal said, in full agreement. "And this world is much too soft and delicate for their rough hands. Once their level of power progresses to a breaking point, they will expend all the resources this planet has to offer. Then they shall wither way with Elibe."  
"Unless," Nergal said. "I stop them."

"How so?" Mark asked. He thought in somewhat unbecoming for a god to interfere with the motion of the world, even if it was moving toward a tragic end. One of Mark's favorite philosophers, an Etrurian priest, had said part of living in a world the god's had designed was being responsible for your own actions (no matter how painful). Humans were flawed, to be sure, but they had strength enough to get by passably if they were willing to face the darkness in themselves.

_People have choices. Some people make mistakes, and they pay for them. Being able to do so without divine reprisal is what makes them free. _It was at this time, bit by bit, that Mark began to understand part of the relevance of free will.

_I suppose without it things would be more efficient, but that would make what is efficient less meaningful. _When Mark thought of how joyful he felt when things were running smoothly, he realized an inability for things to be otherwise would render that joy void.

_Maybe there is enough room in the world for variation ... even if one of the variables is chaos. _

Nergal was unaware of this growing change in Mark.

"I want you to help me in this task."  
"Master?"  
"I want you to be my new lieutenant."  
Mark's mouth fell agape. That was a position held by Ephidel, Limstella, and, quite arguably, Sonia. None of these three would welcome a new addition, or worse yet, a replacement to their ranks.

_And what could I do? I have none of their magic._ Mark said this out loud.

Nergal pointed a finger at Mark's brain. "No, but you have this – five times as much thinking power as any of them could ever hope to achieve."  
Mark was silent for awhile. "What good is that when I can be reduced to ash in an instant?"  
"You will be my commander in the field. The grand marshall of my armies."  
Nergal's eyes were lit with an intense joy as he said this. Here before him stood a Morph of Free Will – a creature whom had (almost) always obeyed him with near perfect compliance. And, like any god should, Nergal would reward such loyalty with a grand place in the scheme of things. It seemed very proper to the Dark Druid.

Mark was, among other things ('shocked' came to mind), skeptical. All the many generals he had read about had been great mages or warriors before they had become military commanders.

_Humans only follow people they know are already great. Expertise in combat matters, they believe, implies greatness in military studies as well._

Most of the 'pure' tacticians and strategists of the world were mere 'advisors' to such men and women. Those who received all of the credit and glory were generals, paladins, sages, and other great figures. "The egg heads" were there for, in the eyes of most Elibeans, decoration. They existed to make the "real" commanders look as though they were surrounded by "needlessly" clever people. False perceptions, but ones deeply entrenched in the mind's of Elibe's peoples and tribes.

Mark said this aloud.

"You needn't worry," Nergal said. "For with the exception of a little practice, I intend for you to command only your fellow Morphs, and they will follow you if I tell them to."  
"A little practice?"  
"Have you, Mark, ever read of the Black Fang?"  
"A little. I believe they are an assassin's guild stationed in Bern? Led by a Brendan Reed, with chapters scattered throughout all the other regions of Elibe?"  
"Yes, and, as far as humans go, they are one of the most proficient military organizations in existence."  
Mark was skeptical. "And you want me to infriltrate theirs ranks in order to become one of their war leaders?" The Morph considered his sickly (if handsome) body as he said this.  
"No need. I have already secured a place for you. Brendan Reed happens to be a servant of mine ... or will be when the time comes."  
To say Mark was surprised would have been the understatement to end all others.

**A/N:** You know what I think is tragic? People who wake up fine and then start getting pissed off because there are gay people in the world. Really, think about it:

**Some Person:** Ah, bright sun ... nice temperature ... pleasant breeze ... green trees ... birds are singing ...deep blue pond ... it's the weekend ... what the hell? Somewhere out there there are people being gay?! Arrrgh! My day is ruined. The natural order is gone forever. Shut up birds. There is nothing to sing about. Somewhere out there there are gay people.

I mean, call me liberal, but who _cares_?

Anyway, I've got a lot of work to this week. Like, six tests (at the least – there are probably some I don't know about) and a bunch of Physics assignments. I might not be able to update for awhile. The fact I'm writing this fanfic instead of my own novel says something about how much fun I'm having at it though.

I'm reading two books right now. One is a history book about the Crusades. The second is _The Catcher in the Rye_, by J.D. Salinger.

**Nightmare** – the chapter should answer your question.

**IVIaedhros** – I would like to match your great review, but I'm pressed for time. Those seven (or is it right?) physics assignments aren't going to do themselves. And I've just about given up on Algebra II (I'll retake it next year).

**SandyCaesar** – I hope you don't think your words are what made this chapter slow in the coming (you know, that one thing where you say something out loud and then the opposite of what you say happens?), because it wasn't. I've just been busy.


End file.
